Odium
by Dissonencia
Summary: And he was just nothing but a classical monster living in this modern civilization.


_Disclaimer: _I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.

_Warning: Common subject for *ahem* story clichés. _

_Chapter Word Count:2,115_

_General Summary: _And he was just nothing but a _classical_ monster living in this _modern_ civilization.

**Odium**

I

**…o0o…o0o…o0o…**

_This is civilization_.

Proof that time passed. Proof that humans have the capacity to change. Proof that old ways weren't always resilient.

This is _modern_ civilization.

And he was just nothing but a _classical_ monster living in this _modern_ civilization.

…

…

…

**.….o0o…..**

_King of Spades_

…**0…**

He's a civilized _man_ now, unlike his full-fledged kin who attack relentlessly during the night with absolute disregard of the victims' families.

_They_ leave traces, uncaring. And _he_ never left traces, careful not to.

Back then, he was _barbaric_.

**Before**, he was so untamed and wild. He was always targeting _families_ every night and uncaringly left traces of their murder. And he was rugged, an uncontrolled beast with a god-forsaken insatiable thirst. So _fucking_ insatiable it hurt him to the core, clouded his brain, and made all the muscles in his body clenched like a vise, intensely needy. His whole existence focused on a particular thing.

Like it's the single thing he needed for the most basic instinct: _survival_.

He roamed the night, barefoot and barely clothed, covered with dried blood from various victims. His eyes are in constant bloodshot, always looking for _food_.

He _terrorized_ remote areas. It was never documented because there is simply no one left around to document things.

He was an unspoken nightmare destined to be _unknown and unrecognized_ along with the ashes of those villages he razed to the ground. Never known to any _human_.

He's so unkempt he became the very monster mothers tell their children to scare them from wondering.

But as time flies, he learned to _slick_ his movements. He was a master.

Once again, he became a generic human.

Hundred years in the making.

After he became civilized -not wanting to see the hunting allure and addictive darkness of bloodstains that followed him in his former _home_, he traveled the world.

He went to Florence, Italy. And lived another homeless, penniless life. But unlike humans who needed money to purchase things or scavenge food, he only needed something that is very common to them, something that they too, take for granted.

During the nineteenth century, he was in France, with some infamous, cheap brothel located in the most reticently place as his home and the prostitutes as his willing playfellows and _sustenance_. It was sex and blood every night. During the day, he hides form the lively, noisy humans. This was not his place even after becoming quite civilized.

**…0…**

_She's a target_.

Nobody would miss her.

At first, _no_. she wasn't a target. He would never even consider her or even look at her.

Having a great background around her, vast family influence would heavily contradict his method of _picking_ victims. He liked the ignored, the concealed type of victims. He favored those who will _not_ be missed.

But then, she posed a challenge.

A real, hard challenge he avoided for hundreds of years. He thought what would happen if a disappearance of a magnate's sister caused such terrible mayhem. He had not seen this before.

Like his past victim endeavor, it was carefully crafted. But unlike his past endeavor, _this_ was longer.

Split-second was all he needed to spot a victim, get close to her, snap her neck, dragged her somewhere dark and _feed_.

And it took him roughly _five_ years of dedication for a _single_ victim.

But it's nothing.

After all, the concept of time, its very nature became obsolete to him. A human's lifespan is just a mere second to him and _five_ years were just _tiny_ fraction of that epigrammatic lifespan. Time has become _ignorable_. Too many, too vast that he could not care about it anymore. _Dispensable_. Waste it and there's still more.

Unlike before, he would randomly attack people but he found out the amount of time he had in his hands were _vast_.

So he stalked her, lived near her –rented a dormitory actually, like the willing or unwilling privileged human on their tertiary education to earn a degree that _their_ current society demanded to be written on a Curriculum Vitae designed for a paper shredder.

He entered a _University_, took classes with resemblance to her –but not all.

He acted like a true man his age, having seen them for hundreds of years. He built a perfect humane image around him, _modern humane image_. The common type of man one will see on a College Freshman building.

…**0…**

"What are you doing here, Kurosaki?"

"You are out of bounds, Rukia. Library closes at eleven pm."

Rukia, "Don't get so familiar with me, Kurosaki. And I work here."

"Excuse me?"

"_Part-time._"

"No shit, you're a Kuchiki and you're working as a part time?" He was honestly surprised. She could practically live her whole life not worrying about anything.

Then he remembered those humans, hundred years ago, who struggle for food. Who kill, gamble and prostitute themselves over a piece of bread.

"Yes." She answered hotly. "And you too, Kurosaki, are out of bounds." Oh, she had a smart mouth.

"Well…unlike you, I can scare them with my fist."

More than fists, actually. _Fangs_, more like.

…

"Thermonuclear Astrophysics…M-Theory…Stellar Physics…Nucleosynthesis…err what? Deep Freeze? What the hell?"

Rukia shot him a dirty look.

They were already inside; she was seated on a chair in front of a long table whilst Kurosaki was few chairs from her. Not her usual spot. And not Kurosaki's usual spot either.

"Well…Astronomy is hard, Physics is hard, and combining them is fucked up."

"…To some. I like it. It is very interesting." She answered, not looking up.

"Tch." He pushed the books away and put his arms over his head. His eyes scanning the area, could he move here?

"I don't expect to hear that coming from you. Well…you have very decent grades, amazing actually."

This time, she looked up at him. And he held her stare with a slow smirk in his mouth.

"Scholarship is a bitch."

Ichigo posed as the son of a province-based doctor and a brother of two girls with adequate money to send him to a University but not enough to cover all the expense. So therefore, he needed to _make_ himself a scholar.

"Please, give me that." Rukia held out her hand.

Ichigo stared at it for a minute before giving her books back. She was very small with dainty hands.

He could easily hold them in one hand.

"I don't really like these stuffs…"

"Let's clarify that I am not interested in hearing things from you-"

"I like literature…"

Rukia stopped. "Really?"

Then her eyes stayed on him, he looked like a punk with slightly normal clothing. "You read literature? Well, I see you as the type to like _Play_-"

"William Shakespeare." He said flatly, frowning. Followed by, "And hey, can we not stereotype? My roommate has a great stash of those magazines, I'm not like him."

"I do not stereotype, I was about to say…_Play_…" Rukia stared at him, cutting the words with a slight smile. "-w_right_. _Playwright._ Or _Dramatist_."

Ichigo snorted. "Yeah right." and she turned away.

Ichigo's eyes remained on her '_I…was around during the time of William Shakespeare.'_

…**0…**

He did it perfectly.

He became a normal senior in his college years. Detached but cool. Punk but a straight-A student. And sometimes a jerk. He was masked perfectly.

He encountered problems for normal humans like _rent_, college _loans_, _gaming_, _booze_ and _slacking_. He even pretended to be _stoned_ twice while watching humans and their alcohol-induced stupidity.

Watching, all the while learning.

Then he fully became a master in blending.

He adapted and used modern human terminology well. He copied their manner of speech while adding his own tone to make it sound originally his. He lived his unending life as if he's one of them. He wore their clothes or similar style. He investigated their likes, explored these things called _fad_ and found out he didn't like most of them. And he became _Modern_.

Yet at the same time he remained _Classical_.

He literally watched _History_. He personally like the Renaissance period, ideas and art were amazing during that time. He saw a queen beheaded by a broad sword. He watched in the sidelines as another queen faced the guillotine. He watched Shakespeare and his plays. The industrial revolution was a great leap too. The scientific advances during the early century were vast. He highly doubt if a…what's that again? Ah yes, two _Nuclear_ strikes would kill him. Or maybe he should have tried; he should have gone to that oriental country and tested his theory. Maybe, it could put an end to his abhorrent existence. And if he survived, he could always stay there, make good use of his _strength_ or enjoy the country's rich culture once things were settled and peaceful.

For years, he anticipated feeding from her. To date, she's the longest. He cannot touch her. Not until after graduation.

She'll taste _very_ sweet in the end.

He carries death everywhere he goes.

He's the king of spades.

…

…

…

**.….o0o…..**

"_Do you think Science can explain everything?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

…**0…**

She has the weirdest eyes.

_It was such a waste_.

"Rukia!"

_To see the light fading from those…_

"Rukia!"

_Slowly fading_.

She turned, his eyes automatically on the curve of her neck but it was fleeting and as soon she arched her eyebrows at him, his eyes went back to her face.

"What?" she asked in her tough and cold voice. Ichigo liked hearing her voice.

Another day. He could not resist it; he put his hand on the back of her head, slowly sliding downward to her neck, feeling that smooth and soft skin. One slight twitch and he could crush her.

_Too close_. He was already slipping from control.

"What?" she asked sharply, and moved her head from his reach. An irritated and surprised snarl on her face.

"Nothing." He recoiled and put his hand on his jean pocket. His control should have been stronger now. After five years of resistance, it should have been better, _improved_.

Or he's just simply becoming _impatient_ with the wait.

"Then why are you calling?"

"I need another book….a _classic_." He answered, half-true. And she turned away after giving him a nod.

They were walking towards the library, again. Rukia –for work, him –for other specific reason.

Rukia was ahead while he trail behind her, a couple of steps back. _Dangerous_, _he might accidentally snap_.

He had planned this for five years. Started from freshman admission and will end in senior graduation.

Common plot. Check.

"If you want to borrow a book, then go straight to the librarian and ask."

"Aren't you the-?"

"No."

"Right. Then I'll ask you to ask the librarian. Since she knows you."

"Ichigo, would it kill you to ask her yourself?"

"Hell, she thinks I'm a punk who borrows classic literature and sells them outside!"

"Can't really blame her." she said then runs off towards the stairs of the library building for her shift.

"Why you-?"

…

"What the hell, Rukia?" Ichigo asked, his eyebrows connecting. It was the first book that Rukia picked up.

"Myths are bad for your health. Those make-believe monsters are simply lies." _No. they are pretty much alive._

"I am not interested with myths…it's just like pseudoscience or something."

"So, why do you have that with you?"

"Nothing."

…

"Tunica Intima."

Rukia looked up. "What?"

"The inner layer of blood vessel." Ichigo answered straight. Something, something was very suggestive in his voice that Rukia did _not_ fail to catch.

_Blood_.

And blood vessel.

"Really?" of course, she knew.

"Yeah."

Rukia looked around to see if anyone was around. No one. Her attention went back to Kurosaki, "You like Anatomy?" curious. This little info was part of the nitty-gritty information on Anatomy, like how it was made from endothelial-

"No, a medical book page lies on the floor."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"And who would rip this-?"

Ichigo did.

In a matter of seconds when she wasn't looking.

Rukia stormed towards the misshapen book. Ichigo watched her bend body. She was always so tiny.

On the page of a torn book, lies a colored illustration of a normal human body's Cardiovascular and Hematological systems. The heart. The blood. The blood vessel. Ichigo had first-hand experience with those…_organs_.

Ichigo permitted a small smile in his lips. Yeah, _the blood._

Horrible and sick. Sure. But a mere human could not fathom what kind of allure it gives to monster like him. The physicality of it, the hunger…the _fucking_ hunger, that thing that makes them monsters.

It's just…it's just…_not_ for human understanding.

"Rukia…"

"What?"

"Isn't your shift ending now? You need to go home. Bad people are everywhere."

…**o0O0o…**

_To be continued_

**Author's Note**

I really do like Astrophysics. Bazinga!

I should be sleeping. I really should be sleeping. I have work tomorrow and I'm still here, derping. Oh gawd, Swiss Miss _with_ coffee is the only thing keeping me from sleeping.

My next round is for updating all my fics…_maybe_. I still have four one-shots.

**Thank you** so much for reading.

…

…

…

_**Preview **_

"_Am I dying?"_

"_Depends on your perception." He whispered. "To a pessimist, it's nothing bad luck, ill fate. To an optimist, it means escaping from the cruel world and entering another with a better chance."_

"_All about a game. This is just a game."_

"_Vamp-"_

_Well…he really hated them._

_Humans._

…

…

…

**Love me or Hate me?**

**Dissonencia.**


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